


Dreams Change

by Thunderdaughter



Category: My Time At Portia (Video Game)
Genre: #fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, Post-Canon, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:08:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23199109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thunderdaughter/pseuds/Thunderdaughter
Summary: Arlo has dreamed all his life of joining the Flying Pigs and becoming one of the heroes of legend. But now, that dream doesn't seem as golden as it used to, next to the life he's built for himself in Portia with his beloved wife, Rosalind. Might Django have another option to offer him?
Relationships: Arlo/Builder, Arlo/female builder, Remington/Alice, Sam/Emily
Comments: 1
Kudos: 24





	1. Eavesdropping Is Its Own Punishment

It had been something of a difficult day in the Civil Corps. Not that anything had gone too terribly wrong, but Arlo had been patrolling in the Collapsed Wastelands, and had fought off enough Pinecocks and Slurpees to leave his arms aching and his back sore. _It's good muscle-work, anyway_ , he thought. _Endurance training, for the next Flying Pigs tryout. And Rosalind finally won that Builder Bout with her Pa, so hopefully she'll be home early and I won't have to go find her sleeping in the grass by the Somber Marsh Ruins, having spent far too long desperately trying to get that last little piece of carbon fiber. I wish she'd've gotten the Corps to get it for her, I'd've been glad to go for it, but she was so determined to do all the work for that plane on her own, so her Pa couldn't say she'd cheated..._ He smiled fondly, thinking of his wife, and the fierce energy she put into her work...and other things. His steps quickened towards home. 

He stopped short at the top of the hill, though, when he heard his wife's name from below, uttered in a concerned male voice. _Django,_ he registered, and relaxed a little. 

"Rosalind? What could be troubling you, oh fairest of Builders?"

He heard her chuckle, a brief humorless laugh. "Hey, Django. Nothing in particular, just thinking about that ridiculous _thing_ Pa gave me. Trust him to go out with a dramatic gesture." 

Arlo could make out Rosalind's form now, curled up on the bench under the tree by A&G Construction, arms around her knees in her thinking pose. Django took a seat next to her, and patted her gently on the shoulder. "I suspect he was trying to show you how much he cares for you."

"Yes, but it's so like Pa to do it with a great huge robot pig that I have no earthly use for, that's only going to take up space in the yard and scare the chickens. I mean, sure, it flies, but it smells godawful, and it's a lot less agile and manageable than my horse Edelweiss. And he'll just leave again tomorrow morning, quite satisfied that he's done everything a father could possibly do for his daughter...just like he did when I was eleven and he and Mum left me with Aunt Kendra, a new bicycle that was too big for me, and a jaunty note on the table, not even a hug goodbye." 

_Oh, darling_ , Arlo thought, his heart aching as he heard the little sob in her voice. 

“I suppose our Maurice wasn't the most present or consistent parent in the world, was he?”

“That's an understatement. I didn't even remember what he looked like from one visit to the next. Mum tried to keep him stable, but in the end, she always chose to go with him, wherever he went. And they always tried to make it up to me with presents, usually the largest, most dramatic, and most appallingly useless things they could find. The robot pig isn't even the gaudiest of them.”

"And of course, it can't help that he chose a giant reminder of your romantic rival, too." Django's voice was gentle, but it was the gentleness of a doctor ripping off a bandage in one swift move. 

Arlo felt a surge of indignance. _Romantic rival? She doesn't have any...oh. A flying pig._ He closed his eyes and gripped the railing, feeling suddenly horribly guilty. 

Django went on, voice soft but terrible to Arlo's heart. "Are you afraid he'll leave you, too, the way your parents did?"

She shook her head vigorously. "No, no, it's not like that, Django. He's not leaving me. I've known about Arlo wanting to join the Flying Pigs since before I gave him that heart knot. I don't want him giving up his dream for me, I never have. It's part of what makes him who he is. I told him that when he passes that test and joins them - and that's when, not if, this is Arlo we're talking about after all - I'll go with him to Lucien. I'm making enough money here, I can easily set myself up in a nice little workshop, and the reputation and connections I'm making here should be enough to get me started. It's a big city, there'll be plenty of work to keep me busy and employed while he's off on missions. Maybe I can do some work for the Pigs, too - I'll bet they need Builders for all the fancy equipment they use. I've built a plane from scratch, after all, I can damned well fix one. And...I'd rather have Arlo for whatever time we can snag between missions than anyone else full-time." 

"And if he doesn't come home from one of those missions?"

"You think I don't know that Arlo could fail to come home any day? He's got a dangerous job, even here in Portia. But...he doesn't try to overprotect me, he doesn't stop me from beating up mutant creatures in hazardous ruins for supplies, or exploring in the Collapsed Wastelands. I owe him the same respect. He trusts me to handle myself, and I trust him to take care of himself. And to be honest...part of the reason I fell in love with him is because we can fight side by side, together, against anything, and it feels like...like communion, like dancing, like nothing else in the world. I get a little of that with Sam and Remi, and I'd trust either of them to have my back any time, but with Arlo, it's magic." She sighed, and looked down at her feet. "Yeah, if he doesn't come home someday, if something gets him out in the Wastelands or the Peripheries or on a mission for the Pigs...my heart will break, and it'll hurt like hell, but...it'll still be better than never having had his love at all. Or trying to squelch who he is to keep him safe." 

"Wisely spoken, lass, wisely spoken. But...it's also quite understandable that you'd not want that reminder shoved in your face. Especially after your family history."

"If there's one thing that family history has taught me, it's resourcefulness. Don't worry about me, Django. I'll find my feet wherever we land."

No one but a wise old knight, or a husband who loved her with his whole heart, would have heard the quaver in that brave voice, but both heard, and Arlo bit his lip, suddenly uncertain about the two greatest certainties in his life. _What am I doing to her? Can I really expect her to just...leave everything for me?_ He paused, the revelation hitting him like a blow to the gut. _Do I even want a dream anymore that involves scrambling for whatever time I can get with her between missions?_

Down below, Django nodded firmly. "Of course you will. But you know, we'll all miss you here in Portia if you leave, both of you. Tell me you'll miss your Uncle Django just a bit?" he teased. 

"'Course I will. I'll think of you every time I make that bubblefish stew you taught me." 

"Haw haw! I should hope so. That's my best recipe! Seriously, though, you both are very much needed here. Perhaps...I might have a solution for you, and for him. Are you planning to have dinner at the Round Table tomorrow with the Corps?"

"Yes, I could do that. With the Dragonfly built and sent off to the Alliance, I don't have to spend my evenings fighting off bandirats and tunnel worms for carbon fiber anymore, thank heaven. I ended up getting enough sapphires to make rings for every day of the year, too. Antoine's going to be thrilled."

Django laughed. "Antoine's a magpie. Anything shiny delights him. In any case, I'll see you there, then. And I'll have a proposition ready for all four of you, one that I've been planning for a while now, but haven't quite had the leisure to put into form."

"That...sounds intriguing..." She cocked her head up at him curiously.

"And you'll hear about it tomorrow night. Off to bed with you, scoot!" 

"Yes, Uncle Django." Arlo heard her laugh, a happier sound this time, as she got up, gave Django an affectionate pat on the shoulder, and headed for home. His eyes couldn't help following the small, curvaceous figure, until he reminded himself that the rest of him ought to be following her too.


	2. Nighttime Questions

He made it to the bottom of the hill, where Django's voice came out of the darkness, tinged with amusement. "How much of that conversation did you overhear, young Arlo?" 

"To be honest...more than I wanted to, but just about as much as I needed to. I've been awfully selfish, haven't I." It was a statement, not a question.

"As she says, she knew it was your dream when she fell in love with you. And it's not wrong for young folks - or even old folks like me - to have dreams, or even to follow them. Just...know what your wife is willing to give up for you, and cherish her accordingly."

"I do, believe me."

"And for right now...just remember, you're doing very necessary and valuable work in Portia, too. If you never achieved anything beyond what you have already done, you would be an impressive man indeed - I've never known a Civil Corps leader to willingly take on a knight before, without showing even the slightest fear."

"I was terrified, you know. And it wasn't as if I was taking him on alone." He ran his fingers through his hair, remembering with some shame how much willpower it had taken to keep his knees from quaking visibly. “You and Toby were the real heroes of that encounter.”

"I said you were impressive, lad, I didn't say you were a damned fool. But you will do higher and better things, I'm sure of it, whether you ever join the Flying Pigs or not. Now go home and tell Rosalind you love her. Better yet, show her."

"Yes, sir." He saluted, and Django grinned at him.

He was greeted at the gate by Scraps, with his usual enthusiasm. The small dog spun in circles at his feet, barked a few happy barks, accepted a bit of friendly scritching, and then took off again for his yard toys, under the quiet supervision of Edelweiss watching calmly from the stables. The factory hummed gently in the night, busy crafting Rosalind's latest project, and the sound of rustling feathers and sleepy poultry conversation came from the coop. _Home_ , he thought, and was surprised to find how warm and pleasant the thought was. 

He hadn't thought of Portia as truly home since his parents had died in that horrible brushfire that had gone out of control so quickly and so overwhelmingly ten years ago. His parents' farmhouse had been too big for one sixteen-year-old boy, and he'd willingly sold it to Farmer MacDonald and moved into the Happy Apartments, and then, as soon as he was old enough to qualify, the Corps quarters, both of which had always felt like temporary stops on the way to Greater Things, places to plan an escape from a small town with too many reminders. But now...he may have joined the Civil Corps to have something useful to do while he waited and trained, but it had been years now that he'd dedicated his daily life to Portia's protection and defense, and when the Rogue Knight had attacked, he had been surprised at the furious rage that filled him at the threat to _his_ home, _his_ friends, the children of _his_ town. And Rosalind...he'd never dreamed he could fall in love so fiercely or so deeply, and he wasn't sure exactly when it had happened, but the moment his eyes had met hers across the hall of the Commerce Guild, he had been lost, his heart's fate only a matter of time and knowledge. _There's no way I could ever have known her and not loved her._

An odd figure caught his eye, and he glanced over to his right, startled to be greeted by the sight of a giant metal... _is that really a pig?_...standing guard over the fence. His eyes widened. _What in Peach's new world was her father thinking?_ Compared to the sleek, elegant Dragonfly Rosalind had built, this was a monstrosity. _A flying pig..._ He stared at it for a few minutes, his heart at war with itself. 

_What am I thinking? Am I just abandoning her the way her parents did, leaving her behind in pursuit of my own selfish dreams? Yes, this dream I've had for a lifetime...but people change, and there's nothing to be ashamed of in that. Would I be giving up my dream or just growing up? Have I gotten too content here to leave? Am I just tired of failing over and over again? Would I be throwing away the chance to be something more than just an ordinary Civil Corps captain...or would I be throwing away the chance to serve where I'm really needed, here in Portia? And can I really be a good husband coming home for a couple weeks here and there between missions? Rosalind's independent, and smart, and she's got her own life, sure, she'd be fine, and we've already decided we don't want kids...but do I want to be away from her that much? Two years ago I'd've laughed at the thought of giving up on the Flying Pigs for a woman's sake...but two years ago, I didn't know Rosalind._

He put the thoughts aside deliberately for tomorrow, and opened the door. Rosalind looked up from the storage bin she was rearranging and smiled at him, a radiant welcoming smile that lit up his heart and made him forget everything else. "Darling," he breathed, and took her into his arms for a kiss that didn't quite finish for several hours.


	3. Morning in Portia

Rosalind woke the next morning to find him gone, but that was perfectly normal - Friday morning was one of the Corps's early training mornings. She washed and dressed quickly, fed Scraps and lured Pinky down from the cat tree with an offer of fish, then stepped out into the bright fresh day. Edelweiss nickered at her from the stable, and she went to go give the horse her morning rubdown and breakfast, glancing over to the road where the Civil Corps were enjoying their Friday morning run. _Damn, I'm a lucky woman,_ she thought, watching Arlo run by, lithe and swift, blowing her a kiss as he went past. Sam and Remi followed, not too far behind. _Remi isn't favoring his knee as much as usual. I wonder if that new acupuncture treatment Phyllis developed is helping? And I wonder if Sam noticed she took Emily's scarf this morning?_

She fed the poultry, giggling as they fought to be the first to be stroked by her feather duster - _Maybe they think it's Mommy?_ \- and then checked the mail. Her lips tightened as she saw her father's familiar handwriting, and found, as she expected, that he'd wandered off again without so much as a personal goodbye. “Oh, look, you're doing fine without me, go on doing it.” _Well, all right, then, I will. And along those lines, I'd better get my own run in to the Commerce Guild before Higgins snatches the best commission._

She made it just in time, snagging a top-level commission from Sandrock for a water tower right out from under Higgins's elbow, to his great indignation. _Serves him right for trying to block me. Hmmm...I suspect I have everything I need for this one except some hard aluminum. And that I can make before the day's over, so I have the weekend free for inspections and exploring. Maybe time for a date with Arlo - we really need to check out the hot springs together._ That thought gave her imagination wings, and she was blushing and smiling to herself as she walked down the path towards Central Plaza.

"You're looking cheerful this morning," Alice raised an inquisitive eyebrow as Rosalind picked out a bouquet of roses. She always bought roses in the morning, and frequently a few bouquets of asteria. Mainly, it was just a quiet gesture of support for Alice, a war orphan who'd fled to Portia with only her younger brother Jack, but everyone appreciated a gift of flowers here and there, and she found it useful for making friends. 

"Just enjoying the sunshine." She smiled brightly at the younger woman, whose own smile only got more mischievous. 

"And the view, I suspect," Alice said softly, waggling her eyebrows as the Corps ran past again. 

"Well, that, too, of course," she admitted freely. _We are married, after all. I can stare at Arlo's rear end all day if I like. It's my wifely prerogative. Such a delicious wifely prerogative it is, too._

She tilted her head teasingly at Alice, testing a hunch. "But I'm not the only one, am I?" She cheered inwardly as the florist ducked her head and blushed, suggesting her hunch was right on the mark, and continued, "Speaking of which, I notice Remi's wearing quite a lovely heart knot these days..."

Both Alice's smile and her blush deepened. "I gave it to him last week. I wasn't expecting him to accept it, but he told me it was the nicest thing anyone's ever given him, and he kissed me...he's been so sweet to me, Rosalind. I never thought anyone like him would look twice at me, but he makes me feel like the princess in my novel. And Jack idolizes him."

Rosalind tucked the roses away and hugged her friend hard. "That's wonderful. You're perfect for each other, and I can't imagine two people I'd rather see happy together." _"Knight in shining armor" is a role that fits Remi like a glove,_ she thought affectionately. _If anyone can sweep shy Alice off her feet and make her bloom, it's him. And her generous heart will do him a world of good. Goodness knows, after all they've both been through, they deserve all the happiness the world can give them._

Alice's tone turned conspiratorial. “Just don't tell Arlo and Sam quite yet, all right? Remi wants to see how long it takes them to figure it out. A 'test of their detective skills,' he called it.”

Rosalind giggled. “Not a word from me, then. Though if Arlo says something, I don't guarantee that I won't give the whole thing away by bursting into laughter.”

“I think that's fair.” She paused, eyeing her friend. "So, are you...all right, after yesterday and that contest with your Pa and all? You didn't seem too comfortable with him."

Rosalind shrugged. "What can I say? He's Pa. He wanders in occasionally, he wanders out. Rather like Pinky, really, but not as cuddly and I can't bribe him with fish. He's gone again – there was a jaunty note in my mailbox this morning telling me that he was quite satisfied with my life, not that I asked for his judgment, and therefore there was no reason he should stick around.”

"That must be so hard.”

“It would probably be harder if we'd ever had a strong relationship. As it is...well, I have my life and he has his. He seems happy enough in his, and I'm very happy in mine.”

“Glad to hear it, darling.” She turned her head to see her husband approaching, wiping the sweat from his forehead with his scarf. He bent to kiss the top of her head tenderly. “Listen, I'm patrolling in the Eufaula Desert today, and I could use some company. Care to walk down with me?”

“Love to, just let me get my factory started on some aluminum for the commission I picked up this morning. Take care, Alice, I'll see you later.”

“Have a good walk.” Alice smiled fondly at them and went back to arranging her flower displays, humming a cheery tune to herself.


	4. A Talk in the Desert

After a brief stop by the workshop to start the production process, the two headed towards the bridge hand-in-hand. A companionable silence prevailed for a little while, which Arlo broke with an inquisitive tilt of his head. “So. Alice. Remi. How long have they been a thing?”

She laughed out loud. “I just figured it out myself. About a week, Alice says.”

“Ha! Sam owes me 10 Gols. She thought it had been going on for at least a month now.”

“And neither of you could, you know, _ask_ Remi directly? Your colleague, close friend, brother-from-another-mother?”

“Where's the fun in that?” He grinned at her. “I'm the Captain. I'm supposed to quietly know these things.” 

“Need to maintain your air of godlike authority, hmm?”

It was his turn to laugh. “Sure, as if they haven't both seen me covered in sewage and Bandirat blood...or flat on my arse after sparring with a woman half my size.” He glared at her playfully.

“I can't help it if you don't dodge quickly enough. And I'm at least two-thirds your size, dear.”

“Maybe soaking wet.” 

She raised a teasing eyebrow at him. “Sparring with you? I generally am.”

“We do tend to end our matches in bed, don't we?” He slipped an arm around her waist, pulling her close, and nibbled her ear playfully.

“I don't hear you complaining.”

“Never.” He scooped her up bridal style, making her giggle, and carried her over the bridge, pausing only to punt a threatening Madcrab neatly into the river. “I enjoy all sorts of physical activity with you, darling.” 

She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him soundly, before reminding him, “At this rate, we'll never get to the desert...”

“True, alas, and I have duties.” He put her down, reluctantly, and the walk continued.

They paused briefly here and there to fight off more Madcrabs, or, as they reached the sand, to behead the occasional Desert Hopper, Rosalind carefully tucking away the dead bodies for later processing. “What do you use those for anyway?” Arlo asked curiously.

“Well, the snakeskins go into various textile products – including that waist pack you're wearing – and I make darts for Sam's Triple Barrel Snakebite with the venom. The meat and the crab claws make a decent soup if you're not picky, or dog food for Scraps, and the shells and fangs are useful for sharp tools and weapons. I use the crab mucus to help process leather. The bones mostly go into fertilizer.”

“You do use every last bit, don't you?”

“I don't like everything the Church teaches, but I agree with them firmly on not wasting Mother Earth's gifts. Everything has a purpose, and in the end, it all goes back to Her.”

“Agreed.” He paused, as they reached the top of the hill and gazed out over the view, gold turning to silver as the sand met the water in the distance. “As a matter of fact, I've...been thinking about my own purpose lately.”

“Oh?” she asked, wondering what that meant. 

“I've had this fantasy, ever since I was a kid, of being the Great Hero of legends, flying into frontier towns like Portia, beating up the bad guys, winning the admiration of the people, and then riding off again into the sunset. But...lately I've been realizing that it's just a fantasy, and I don't know if it's for me, I don't know if I even want it anymore. I'm thinking... I'm meant to be here, in Portia, with you. I have a job here, I have purpose, I have meaning...and I have a home, for the first time in years. I don't want to give that up. I don't know if I want to join the Flying Pigs anymore.” His eyes stayed focused on the horizon, not looking at her.

She closed her own, feeling sick at heart. “You overheard me talking to Django last night, didn't you.” 

He still wouldn't meet her eyes. “Yes, I did. And I had a talk with him myself after.”

“If he guilted you into this, I'm going to...”

“No, no, nothing like that. But I don't want to be like your father.”

“You're not, Arlo. And I'm no child anymore. I chose this. I chose you, knowing what you wanted, knowing what your dream was. I went into this marriage with my eyes wide open. I would hate it if you sacrificed your dreams just to keep me from feeling abandoned, when I'm perfectly capable of making a good life for myself – for us – wherever we land.”

“I know, darling. That's not it. Your father's been chasing his dreams a long time, but he's lost so much, missed out on so much, in the process. It's not guilt that's motivating me, sweetheart, it's fear of missing out myself. On time with you, on the life we have together, on Portia and the people I love here – I haven't felt like I belonged here since my parents died, but now, with you, with the Corps...this is finally home again, Rosalind.” He finally turned towards her, intense blue eyes meeting sea-green, and put a hand gently on her cheek. “It doesn't sound so good anymore, being the fly-by hero going here and there and never belonging anywhere, except to my fellow travelers. That was a boy's dream. I want to be the man this town trusts to stand between them and the Peripheries, I want to be 'Uncle Arlo' to the kids and encourage Mayor Gale's latest wild scheme to put us on the map, I want to tease Remi about Alice and wince when Sam calls me 'Cap', and most of all, I want to be the husband who fights back to back with you in the Hazardous Ruins and comes home to you every night. I don't want to be just a hero, Rosalind – I want to be _your_ hero.”

“Arlo, love...” Her vision blurred suddenly, and she couldn't get any more words out before his lips met hers, tender, warm and sweet. “You are, you always were,” she murmured as they parted. “You always will be.” She paused to look him straight in the eye, her fingers twining through the hair at the back of his neck. “But don't decide this all at once, all right? We have time before the next tryout, it's only the beginning of summer.”

“All right, darling. I need to keep up the training regimen anyway – the Captain's got to set a good example, after all.”

“I won't complain about that.” She eyed him teasingly up and down. 

He leaned down one more time to capture her lips. “Just be sure, my love, that you are the center of my heart and always will be.” 

“And you are mine. Whatever you do, wherever we go.”

He pressed his forehead against hers and held her gaze that way for a long moment, before he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and stood up straight again. “Alas, right now, duty calls. But I'll see you tonight at dinner.”

“Right. Off to the ruins for me – I've a couple relics I need to complete. Tonight, love.” She blew him a kiss, and headed off towards the inviting cave opening.


	5. A New Offer

Several hours later, she emerged triumphant, exhausted and dusty, her backpack full of old parts, springs, useful valves, aluminum ore (thankfully the lightest of the ores she had to haul) and finally, FINALLY the last piece of the Fortune Cat relic she had been trying to finish for ages. _Why the ancients felt the need to create so many statues of a waving cat, I'm not sure, but it'll look lovely in the museum and Merlin will be pleased with me. Got to keep the tech ladies happy._

She took the Dee-Dee transport home, relieved to have a chance to sit and rest after a long day of digging, hauling, and drilling. She sorted her newly-acquired materials into the storage bin's various compartments, then set the Fortune Cat statue's pieces into the recovery machine and pushed the button to start the process of re-gluing and refinishing. Scraps bounced around her ankles, eager to show off his new trick, and was duly praised and petted, to his great delight. _Now time for a shower, get that desert dust out of my hair at last, and change into that new outfit I had Carol alter yesterday. Hope Arlo appreciates it..._

He did, if the light in his eyes when he saw her walk through the Round Table's doors was any indication. But before he could speak, Django took control of the situation. “Good, that makes all four of you. Have a seat. Dinner's on me tonight, I've made all of your favorites, so please enjoy. Food first, then business- one cannot properly appreciate a meal if one's mind is on other things.”

The conversation flowed freely over dinner, with Arlo and Sam uniting to gently tease Remi about his new romance, in a way that made it quite clear that they heartily approved. Remi only smiled broadly at them, the warm glow of happiness almost palpable around him. Rosalind sat back and watched the three of them with genuine affection, feeling happy and grateful to have been welcomed into their tight-knit circle, not just as the Captain's wife, but in her own right. The food was, as usual, delicious – Django had outdone himself – and she found herself relaxed and thoroughly enjoying herself. 

At the end of the meal, Django stood, and clapped his hands for attention. “Ladies and gentlemen, ears to me, please. You all know who I am, and who I have been. I have attempted to live all my life by the highest principles I know – the code of chivalry, the code of knighthood – and to devote myself to the defense of everything I hold dear, and in exchange, I had the honor to be granted the accolade, and the title of Storm Knight. But I am afraid,” he shook his head ruefully, “that the ideals of knighthood have been rather fading of late, and I was one of the last to receive the accolade in recent history. The tradition is dying before my eyes - and I do not wish to see that tradition die. And there are others, who agreed with me, so we stationed a few of us in each city to keep an eye out for potential prospects. Portia was considered especially promising, because it is a growing and thriving place, but close enough to the Peripheries to find danger enough to draw out the honorable and brave among its populace. And because its Civil Corps had a reputation for honesty and devotion to justice.” He beamed at them all. “There are four of us here presently. You know who I am. Now, it is time for you to know the others as well.” 

He cleared his throat loudly, with the dramatic flourish that governed everything he did, and the three elderly patrons at the bar got up, walked over, and stood next to him. “Samara, Rosalind, Arlo, Remington, may I introduce Sir Isaac, the Scholar Knight?” 

The spare, elderly man bowed, as the four at the table stood respectfully. _Of course, he would be one of them,_ Rosalind thought, and looked around to see that the other three were thinking along the same lines. If they had had to peg one citizen of Portia, besides Django, as a retired knight, Isaac did seem to be the obvious choice. The other two, on the other hand...

“Dame Xiurong, the Phoenix Knight.”

_Yeye Hulu?_ The old woman laughed heartily at the expressions on their faces. “If you're not surprised by an old man being a retired knight, you shouldn't be surprised by an old lady. And you two gentleman ought to know how well a small woman can fight when she's trained to it.”

Arlo glanced at his wife with rueful but affectionate amusement. “Goodness knows I've had the stuffing beaten out of me often enough to know that.” He bowed politely. “I don't doubt you, ma'am, I don't doubt you at all, I'm just astonished that you could run so many successful businesses and raise so many fine young men while also getting and retaining the skills and training of a knight.”

“Excellent planning and organization. And a great deal of strong tea.” Her dark eyes sparkled at him, accepting the compliment with calm equanimity. 

The fourth of the knights stepped forward, and Rosalind was startled to see the clarity in her eyes, and the firmness of her expression, so different from the way she had looked on last seeing her. Beside her, Sam gasped, astonished. _“Granny Sophie?”_

“Dame Sophia, the Harvest Knight.” Django's lips twitched, clearly delighting in how they had all been fooled. 

“Before you ask, Sam, dear, yes, my senility has all been an act, and yes, Emily knows, though her folks don't. I wouldn't leave a slip of a girl to run things without my help if I could avoid it, no matter how capable and strong she is. But sometimes a knight needs to play spy as well, and it's amazin' how many secrets a person will let loose in the presence of someone who seems to be goin' 'round the bend a bit. We were hopin' I'd be able to help ferret out the Rogue Knight. Unfortunately, Aadit wasn't one of the sort to let his secrets slip...” she sighed. “And I never even thought enough of him to pry for 'em.”

“Not your fault, ma'am. No one suspected Aadit.” Remington shook his head. 

“Assuming, of course, that he was the Rogue Knight. We still don't know that for an absolute certainty,” Sam pointed out. 

“He did flee,” Django pointed out. "But you are correct, we don't know for certain at the moment." 

"What about Russo?" Remington asked. "I'd've imagined that if there were knights in Portia, he would have been one of them."

"Alas, we missed our chance with Russo. Had we found him twenty years earlier...in any case, he has now devoted himself thoroughly to the service of Mayor Gale and his children, especially Ginger, who does need the protection, and we did not want to divert him from that noble purpose. Gratitude and loyalty are knightly attributes too, and we respect them," Django said judiciously. “But that's not the issue for tonight. Tonight...we want to move towards the goal we've been working towards, to make Portia a town of knights and rebuild the order of chivalry. We want to establish a school for knights here, and we want you four to be our first trainees.”

“Knights?” Arlo looked as though he had been hit over the head with his Corps hammer. “You want us to be knights? But...you should know, Django, before we go any further than this, I've...been misleading you all, everyone but Rosalind. I...well, I haven't just missed the Flying Pigs tryouts for the past few years, I've failed them.” Rosalind noted a total lack of surprise on Remi's and Sam's faces. _Clearly, they know their boss better even than he suspects_ , she thought, amused. “If I'm not good enough to make the Pigs, surely I'm not ready to be trained as a knight, am I?”

Isaac sniffed. “The Flying Pigs, from a knightly point of view, go about their testing backwards – they test your success at skills that can be trained and ignore those that cannot. I have been observing you for the past several years, we all have. Rest assured, none of us would have supported your candidacy if we did not believe that you had everything needed to become a knight – including, and especially, the nobility and purity of heart that cannot be trained or taught. Allow me to illustrate. During the battle with All Source and the Rogue Knight, you must have known that you could not win – that he had taken on all of you before, and without an artificial intelligence to help him, and won. And yet none of you so much as hesitated for an instant to challenge him, because danger threatened your town and you were the only ones, you thought, able to stand in the way. Not only that, when the Rogue Knight fled, after the battle, and you finally had a moment to let down your guard, all four of you, as one, looked first not to your beloveds, not to your immediate family, not to each other – but to the children, to make sure they were safe. You have been the first and last line of defense for this town for years, and every person in this town would swear that you are, all of you, absolutely incorruptible and dedicated to the protection of Portia above everything else in your life. That is what a knight is. That is what a knight does. All else can be trained.” 

Remington still looked dubious. “What about my knee? I'm damaged goods, really, that's why they sent me from Lucien to Portia. I don't know if I'll be able to keep up.” 

Sam snorted. “They didn't send you here because of your knee, Remi. They sent you here because Arlo and I needed a grownup to keep an eye on us.”

Arlo thwapped her good-naturedly, then grinned ruefully at Remi. “That wasn't exactly how the higher-ups phrased it, but it's pretty close.”

“Honestly, Remi, your knee didn't stop you in Ingalls' Mine,” Rosalind pointed out. “You saved my life a couple of times at least down there.”

“Not to mention Arlo's, and Mint's, and mine.” Sam said reasonably. “I've never noticed that knee of yours hindering you when there's real danger, or real work to be done – just when it's cold and there's nothing going on and we're all bored.”

“Believe me, Remington, we've all got our wounds. More than a few, some of us.” Django rubbed his shoulder, clearly reliving a bad memory. “You are stronger, not weaker, because you know you are not invulnerable.”

“And then there's me.” Rosalind spoke up, hesitantly. “I'm not a Corps member, or a fighter, or a defender of the weak – I'm a Builder. If you're just including me in this because of Arlo...”

The three Civil Corps members turned towards her, expressions of exasperated affection on all three faces. Sam punched her lightly in the shoulder. “Idiot. You're the frickin' Martial Arts Champion of Portia two years running. And you've practically been one of us for years - the only reason we didn't officially recruit you for the Corps after the Ingalls' Mine incident was that Corps members in the same unit aren't allowed to be romantically involved, and Remi and I both knew Arlo was head over heels for you by then.”

Arlo blushed, but reached a hand under the table for hers. “Darling, you've fought alongside us in every serious incident we've faced since you arrived here. You've just as much courage and skill as any of us.”

“That you do,” said Django. “All four of you have shown as much. So what say you? Will you take upon yourselves the order of chivalry, and face the world as knights in training?

Arlo looked at each of his colleagues and his wife in turn, getting a nod from each, and then spoke for all. “Yes, we will.” 

“Well indeed,” said Django warmly. “You may regret that in a little while – training is not going to be easy, not easy at all, haw haw! But in the end, I trust you will consider this the best decision of your lives.”

“Second-best,” Arlo said firmly, slipping an arm around Rosalind's shoulders. 

Remi and Sam looked at each other, smirked, and in one voice, went “Awwwwww....”

Django only beamed at them.


End file.
